Scars
by Radio Gaga
Summary: He spoke not a word, but instead let me trace over the scars he was so self conscious of. I loved-and still do love-Alejandro, but the guilt was too much for me. "No, I will not marry you."


"_Mi Ángel_," he whispered, lips ghosting over my neck. "Marry me."

I closed my eyes and sighed. The man I hovered over was perfect, and I loved him, but I couldn't marry him. So that's what I told him.

When I opened my eyes to see his reaction he cocked an eyebrow and looked at me with the same childish curiosity as a baby being introduced to its first teddy bear. "_¿por qué?_ I know that you love me, just as I love you."

I chuckled at his paperback romance novel dialect. "You sound like a Spanish Fabio,"

"But you have not answered my question,"

I turned away once more, opting instead to let my eyes and fingers trace over the visual reminder of why I would never be with this perfect man. "Because I betrayed you."

He spoke not a word, but instead let me trace over the scars he was so self conscious of. Surgery can only do so much to rid someone of burn scars, and Alejandro'd certainly gotten as much surgery as his body would allow. The scars ran all up and down his torso, even spreading to his arms and legs slightly. Patches of the scared areas were pale yellow, and other spots had purplish splotches. He was completely hairless, save for his implanted facial hair and the equally false locks that cascaded to his shoulders, and he'd had small chunks of flesh removed. It was at one of those missing bits of flesh that I now kissed.

Alejandro hissed, not so much with pain as annoyance. I knew he was feeling an unnamed and unwanted sensation, but I wanted to stress my point. "I did this," I held his hand up, stroking each misformed digit. I could see and feel the bone through his thin skin, as there was little between the two.

"And I did this," I rolled off of him and traced his leg, which had never been the same since I led a stampede of Pele-fearing teenagers over his long-forgotten body. It was cocked oddly, and he'd refused to let the doctors re-break his leg just to get another try at fixing it.

He cooed to me once more, calling me a multitude of Spanish pet names before finally taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

"It was not your fault." I shook my head and turned away.

"I could've gone back, or just warned you, or-" He kissed me again, and wrapped me in his arms.

"_Mi Amor_, you could not have done anything. No matter what you think, you know that there was no way I could have escaped the lava, or my fellow castmates." I was still doubtful, but he held me all the tighter because of it. "And even if you do not think we do not deserve each other, I know that we were meant to be together."

Despite his proclamation of love straight from a forty year-old woman's day dreams, I was deeply moved by his sincerity.

"How many times must I say it, Heather? _Aishiteru_! _¡te amo!_ I love you! Why can it not just be as simple as that?"

I smiled, in spite of myself. "I don't actually speak Japanese."

He frowned, finally getting fed-up with my various ways to avoid saying 'no'. "Do you love me; yes or no?"

I bit my lip and slid off the bed to get dressed. While hooking my bra, I answered him. "I do, but-"

"Then marry me." He had his arms around my waist in a second, holding me as if he'd never see me again. Of course, he might not. "If nothing else, think of it as a way to make up for what happened all those years ago."

I took a deep breath, turned toward him, and finally answered.

"I have so many wagers to settle with my Karma," I pulled from his embrace, holding back a whimper and a tear when the coldness of the room invaded my skin. "But if marrying you is supposed to be my ticket to a happy life, I think I've found someone more sadistic than even Chris."

And with that, I gathered my clothes and walked right out his front door. I didn't shed a single tear until I was in my own room, looking in the mirror. My body shook and my knees knocked together. My chest heaved violently, and my hands just weren't big enough to catch even half of the tears cascading down my face.

I loved-and still do love-Alejandro, but the guilt was too much for me. Me, Heather Chen, the bitch who broke up a couple and threatened people for no good reason, had finally had enough.

Years later, when my pride and vanity were just a flicker in the eyes of my three children, Alejandro tried again. I'll always say I accepted this time because I was the single mother of children whose fathers had left me before they even knew I was knocked up, but even I know that my reasons had nothing to do with my children.

Today, right now, I'm sleeping beside my husband, who is shirtless for the first time since our wedding seven years ago, and his scars stand out more than ever in the moonlight. They are the most beautiful things I've ever seen, and I can't help but smile while I kiss every mottled inch of his body. I'll always remember the day I betrayed him, but now those scars represent the Heather of the past. I am a different Heather now, and those scars remind me of how much I've grown since that day.

With one final peck, I buried myself in Alejandro's arms and fell into a content slumber. Everyone has scars, but those who look beyond them find true happiness.


End file.
